


Sea of Memories

by SleepyEye



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Catharsis, Divorce, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Performance Art, Trauma, art therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/pseuds/SleepyEye
Summary: Prompt:Sea of Memories
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37
Collections: Love Letters: A Cormoran Strike Valentine's Day Fest





	Sea of Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeLoveLetters](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeLoveLetters) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Sea of Memories

“That’s excellent news,” Cormoran said, “Yes, of course. Goodbye.”

Cormoran ended the call with a scowl. He wished that he still had a landline; he missed the gratifying click that came with hanging up a phone. He shouldn’t be upset, really. The call had been good news. Their client, nick-named Wonder Woman, had called to inform him that her husband had come clean about his drug addiction, he was in rehab, they were still very much in love, and no longer in need of Strike and Ellacott Investigations. The client was grateful to them both for all of their hard work on the case, and she seemed at peace. 

Cormoran was being a grumpy bastard and he knew it. Valentine’s Day was coming up on Friday, and it seemed like the whole world was in happy and full of love. Even Robin, apparently, who had requested Valentine’s Day off. And why else would somebody request Valentine’s Day off, unless it was for a date? It was her right, he supposed. She’d left Matthew, what, a year and a half ago? Who was he to say that she couldn’t get back out there?

Didn’t mean he had to enjoy it though. 

Lucy had been horrified at the thought of him spending Valentine’s Day alone, and had invited him over to a party at their house, where she would no doubt try to set him up with somebody utterly incompatible. He had told her that he had a surveillance job, which, at the time, was true. Not anymore. Now he would need to find some new excuse. He didn’t really see what the big deal was. He had never liked Valentine’s Day. He had never celebrated it much as a child, which meant that as an adult he was nearly constantly disappointing his girlfriends when he forgot to do something. 

He wanted to get out of London. Even just for a day. Take the car, go out someplace quiet. This was the longest he’d ever lived in one place, and, much as he loved it, he was starting to feel claustrophobic.

“Cormoran?” 

Cormoran jumped at the sound of Robin’s voice. He had been so lost in his own angst, he hadn’t noticed that she was standing in his doorway until she spoke.

“Christ, you scared me,” he said, his hand on his racing heart.

Robin smiled weakly, and Cormoran noticed that she looked pale and nervous.

“I need a big favor,” she said, “And it’s okay if you say no. It’s about this Friday.” She blushed, suddenly remembering that it was Valentine’s Day, and he might have a date. 

“Of course. What do you need help with?”

“My divorce is getting finalized.”

“What! Congratulations!” Cormoran was flooded with relief, then felt a pang of guilt for feeling that way. “Or- I mean. You know.”

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “The irony of it falling on Valentine’s Day is not lost on me.” 

“So what do you need from me? I’m at your service.”

“Don’t say that yet, you don’t know what it is.”

“Anything.” He tried to keep his tone light and hoped that she couldn’t hear the sincerity in his voice.

“Well, the Land Rover is in the shop, and I need to go…” She took a deep breath. “I need to go to Kent.”

“Kent?”

“It’s just something I need to do. If you need the car for work, I can wait until you’re done. It doesn’t matter what time. I’m seeing the lawyer in the morning, but then I’m free, so I can work around your schedule.”

Cormoran smiled.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked. Robin looked at him, baffled. It was a completely uncharacteristic thing for him to say.

“What?”

“I can lend you the BMW, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to come with you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Not because I don’t trust you with the BMW, mind. But because I was just thinking about how much I want to go to the ocean.”

“I… alright.”

“I’m meeting with Face Tat at eleven. How about I pick you up around one?”

“Okay, but honestly, if you need to work later, I can…”

“Robin. Really. It’s fine. I just got off the phone with Wonder Woman; Speedy is in rehab and they’re no longer in need of our services.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news!”

“Yeah. Especially because it means I no longer need to tail him on Friday, and I’ll be free to drive you.”

“Let me buy you dinner in thanks.”

“I won’t say no to that.”

Cormoran met Robin outside of her apartment on Friday afternoon. She was waiting for him in the rain, wearing an ugly yellow raincoat and holding a shopping bag. She gave him a thin smile that looked like it was painful.

“I really appreciate this,” she said, climbing in next to him, “There’s a beach I need to go to, but you don’t have to wait there. You can just drop me off, there’s a good pub nearby where you can wait. I won’t be more than half an hour.”

“What exactly are you doing at this beach?” he asked, pulling out into traffic.

"It’s a bit embarrassing.” 

Cormoran raised his eyebrows and shot her a sidelong glance.

“You don’t have to tell me, but now my imagination is going,” he said. Robin grinned and rolled her eyes.

“Have a biscuit,” she said, and pulled a box of heart-shaped Valentine biscuits out of the shopping bag.

“Thank you very much.” He stuffed one in his mouth. “So I’m imagining some sort of pagan ritual.”

“Not pagan, no.”

“Burning an effigy of Matthew?”

Robin stared at him like he had revealed psychic powers.

“Actually, that’s very close,” she said.

“Wait, really? I was joking!”

“Yes, well. You know how I need to take that art therapy course for my degree?”

“Yeah.”

Robin had been taking psychology classes at night to finish her schooling. Her latest class was called “The Theory and Practice of Art Therapy.” It wasn’t exactly pertinent to a criminal psychology degree, but it was fun and informative. Robin often came to the office still paint-stained from the activities the night before.

“One of our assignments is to do a piece of performance art with personal psychological significance,” she said, “And of course I’m not a performer, so I asked if I had to have an audience, and the professor said no, I could just do it on my own, and then write about it.”

Cormoran was stunned. His mother had exposed him to a variety of performance art throughout his childhood, ranging from the mildly odd to the absolutely horrific. He remembered an old woman at the commune where they had stayed, who sometimes covered herself in paint and danced naked around a giant sculpture of a clitorus. 

“I told you it was embarrassing,” Robin said. Cormoran tried to banish the image of Robin naked and covered in paint from his mind.

“Erm. What are you planning on… Performing?”

“It’s nothing big. Not like what some of the other students are doing. I’m just taking photocopies of some significant stuff to a meaningful beach and setting them on fire.” She reached into the grocery bag and pulled out a shoe box tied shut with gold ribbon. “I suppose it would be more symbolic to burn the original copies, but I might need some of the legal documents later. I’ve got copies of the divorce papers, and our love letters, and our vows, and such. Botany Bay in Kent is where Matthew and I had our first kiss, while on a school trip. I’m wearing a white dress, too, just to add to the symbolism.” She lifted the hem of her yellow poncho to show him a white eyelet dress. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now it just seems like a big hassle. And this dress is fuckin freezing.”

Cormoran grinned and turned up the heater.

“It’ll be fun,” he said. 

Robin shot him a look.

“Honestly,” he insisted, “Consider it a holiday. We can go to a pub afterwards, raise a glass to your newfound independence.”

The weather report had claimed that the rain would stop before two, but the weather report had lied. When Cormoran parked at Botany Bay at three, the rain was still pounding against the roof of the BMW like an overeager snare drummer.

“Something tells me a bonfire isn’t going to go too far,” Cormoran said.

“I know. It’s bullshit. But I have an umbrella, and I can at least give it a shot.” She opened the door and slid out into the rain. “I shouldn’t be more than half an hour.” 

She got out of the car and started making her way down to the sand.

“Wait!” Cormoran called.

She turned, surprised, and saw him limping after her. 

“Slow down,” he said, “I’m not too good on sand.”

“I thought you were going to the pub,” she said. Cormoran stopped.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think. Is this something you need to do alone? I totally understand if you need space, or…”

“No, you’re welcome to it. But standing on the beach in this downpour doesn’t seem like much fun.”

Cormoran grinned.

“On the contrary, Robin. There’s no place I’d rather be. Besides, you need somebody to hold the umbrella.”

They found a likely spot under a rocky outcropping, relatively sheltered from the wind and rain. Robin took off her coat, revealing a simple white sundress. It was thin and short-sleeved, and goosebumps pricked up and down her shoulders.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” she said. Cormoran held up the umbrella, but the wind made the rain slant beneath it. Robin opened the shoe box, which was filled to the brim with years of text messages, love notes, wedding plans, and divorce papers. She took a box of matches from her coat pocket and tried to light a match. It broke in two.

“Dammit.” She tried to light another, but the wind almost immediately blew it out.

“Here.” Cormoran held out his lighter. Robin nodded in thanks. She flicked it on and held it to the papers, which smoldered for a moment, blackening one edge before the rain doused it out. She tried again, and a third time, with the same result. She let out a cry of frustration.

“Why won’t it light!”

“Listen. Maybe fire isn’t the right way to go,” Cormoran said, “What if you were to float the box off into the ocean? They’d still be gone. The message would be the same.”

Robin let out a long sigh, staring at the sodden box papers.

“I guess you’re right,” she said, putting the lid back on and tying up the ribbon, “Okay. But I’m not getting in the water. I don’t want to get any more wet than I have to.”

“Agreed.”

The waves were strong, but not overly treacherous, and they managed to find a relatively calm part of the beach. The wind carried the spray into their faces, and Cormoran could taste salt.

“Okay. There’s a wave coming in. Here I go.” Robin gave the box a practice heft. “One… Two… THREE!” She tossed it gently into the oncoming wave. The box floated away, like baby Moses in the basket. She watched it go, clutching her elbows against the cold and shivering in the thin dress.

Then, as waves do, the water came pouring back in, carrying the box with it.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” She picked up the box and hurled it back into the water. “JUST DIE ALREADY!” This time it went a bit farther, bobbed for a minute, then came rushing back to her. 

Robin grabbed the box and ran forward into the waves, roaring, she threw the box as hard as she could. It burst open in the air, releasing hundreds of papers. Years of teenage ramblings, early attempts at sexting, love notes passed in class. Her train ticket for when she first came to London to live with him. Their lease on the flat, and then on the house. 

Wedding plans, dried flowers, location rentals. Their invitations and their guest list. The plane tickets to the honeymoon. And then page after page of paperwork for the divorce.

Some of it caught on the wind and flew up towards the cliffs. Most of it fell in the water, moving around Robin in the waves. She screamed and beat at the water with her hands, trying to push the papers out to sea, but there was too much, far too much. A wave caught her in the stomach and she went down, sobbing on her knees. 

W _ hy can’t it just be done? _

Two strong arms came around her, and Cormoran was standing there beside her, water up to his knees, helping her to her feet. She clung to him as she cried, and he held her until another wave knocked them both down again. 

They trudged through the sand together, arms around each other’s waists. They were both drenched from head to toe, Robin’s white dress entirely useless for the purpose of decency. Cormoran pretended not to notice, and was grateful that the cold could distract him until she put her coat on. 

They sat in silence in the car for a moment, both too cold to think, let alone drive a car. Cormoran turned the heater on as high as it could go, and they both sighed as the hot air washed over them.

“Okay,” Cormoran said, “I don’t know about you, but I could use some warm clothes, warm food, and maybe a stiff drink.”

Robin smiled and ran her hands over her face.

“That does sound lovely,” she said, “Although going back to London sounds less than appealing right now.”

“Who said anything about London? It’s only four. And I saw a department store on our way in, that I’m sure would have something cozy for cheap.” 

“What, buy all new clothes?”

“I am not going to drive all the way back to London in this outfit.”

They rushed into Matalan, clothes dripping and teeth chattering, and ran to the sales racks. The discount section was filled with Valentine’s themes items, and they grabbed as many warm things as they could. Fluffy pajama bottoms, hats, gloves, and sweaters, all patterned in hearts. They put the dry clothes on in a petrol station bathroom. They both looked quite ridiculous in pajamas and baubled hats, but there was something festive and almost deviant about it, like pajama day in primary school.

“You know what we need?” Robin asked.

“What.”

“Hot Toddies.”

“I would not-“ Cormoran sneezed, “-Say no to that.”

They went to a tiny family pub, where they got a booth and ordered jacket potatoes and hot toddies. They both sighed in relief as the brandy warmed them from the inside.

“So what are you going to write in your report?” Cormoran asked. Robin picked thoughtfully at her potato.

“Not sure yet,” she said, “It fit, though, didn’t it. It fit better than I ever thought it would. And more than I wanted it to.”

“Yeah.”

“I just want it to be over.” Robin’s chin trembled and she took a drink in an attempt to hide it. “We’re officially done now, so there’s no reason for me to keep… keep hurting, or for it to still hold influence over me. I no longer love him. He no longer loves me. So why does it keep coming back?”

“Because that’s how the tide works.”

The corner of robin’s mouth raised. 

“You poet.”

Cormoran grinned back. 

“Here’s what I want,” Robin said, “I want a day, just one day, where I don’t think about Matthew at all. I get up in the morning and automatically think  _ what should I wear for Matthew  _ or  _ what would Matthew like for breakfast.  _ Im even tired of  _ Goddamn Matthew that cheating motherfucker I hope he rots in hell _ . Because even then I’m thinking about him and he’s in my head.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “I’m just angry, Cormoran. I’m angry all the time. I’m angry with everyone. I’m mad at our clients, and my family when they call, and the nice barista who stays good morning every day.”

“Not friendly Fiona!”

“Yes! She’s so fucking chipper, I just want to throw my drink at her!”

“How dare she say that this morning is good! Clearly the extra shot in your macchiato is proof that today is terrible!”

They were both laughing now. Cormoran raised his glass. 

“We should have a toast,” Cormoran said, “to angry Robin.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“That turns you on, does it?” she teased. He didn’t answer, just raised his eyebrows and clinked his glass against hers. Robin rolled her eyes and grinned. “Fine. To angry Robin.” She drank. “My turn. A toast to… To dry clothes.” 

“Here here!” They both raised a glass and drank. 

“I thought the cashier was going to faint when she saw us,” Cormoran said,

“She’ll get over it. We more than made up for it by how much we bought. I used up a whole month’s clothing budget in one day,” Robin said. 

“Think of it this way: if we got sick from the cold, we’d lose business and probably lose that amount of money anyways. Or more. So really, we were being frugal.”

“I like the way you think.” Robin raised her glass again. “To frugality!”

“To frugality! Although if we keep on toasting, we’ll need to get more drinks.”

Robin downed her glass.

“To more drinks!” she cheered, raising her empty glass.

“Finish your potato first, woman. I won’t be carrying you home.”

“Ah, more’s the pity.” Robin winked, stuffed half her potato in her mouth at once, and made her way back to the bar. 

Cormoran leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She would be the death of him, she really would. He kept his eyes closed until she came back, setting another drink down in front of him.

She was lovely, a pink valentines hat pulled low over her ears, her hair stiff and tangled from the sea water. 

“What should we toast to next?” she asked. 

“Valentines day.”

“Baahhh not you too?” Robin groaned.

“You don’t like it?”

Robin raised her glass and cleared her throat, with all the pomp and formality that she could muster..

“Fuck Valentine’s Day,” she said. Cormoran burst out laughing.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he said, “I think it’s growing on me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's gonna be single for one whole year this Valentine's Day!! I feel so liberated. You guys supported me so much through the break-up, and I am so glad that I am part of this incredible fandom.


End file.
